Small Comforts: Later
by cosmic-mischief
Summary: Dick has always worked on the principle of 'Later'. His wants took second priority and for the most part, he was fine with it. But sometimes, he considered 'later' as a curse word. One that involved missed opportunities and a lifetime of hurt.


A/N: Hey guys, so this is another one of those unexpected oneshots XD I was walking to class planning another fic, a different fic, when instead, I made KlarionxWally fanart (over at dA) and this. I had so many problems with the verb tenses in this fic ._. still not sure about some of them.

I hope you guys like it and feel free to comment, and/or fave.

Warning: slashy, nothing explicit though 8D

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice but I reaaaaaally wish I did :)

* * *

LATER

Dick has always worked on the principle of later.

When it had nothing to do with his duties as a Wayne or as the Boy Wonder, events, things, _people_ were shuffled off to later. Maybe it was due to an utterly screwed up notion of priority; although, that wasn't entirely true, saving the world counted as a do-now-or-never-again concern, and Robin certainly dealt with those quickly and efficiently. However, attending Art Galas and High Society Balls were decidedly less so.

Dick just always thought that there was time, that his wants took second place in the grand scope of life and who could blame him? Every decision he made was pitted against civilian lives and a strong, slightly inflexible work ethic. Perhaps it was a result of working with Batman, but even then, he couldn't find it in himself to mourn what he believed to be necessary sacrifices in his personal life for the greater good. That didn't mean that he wasn't reminded every now and then that some matters were of equal importance.

The first harsh lesson took the form of the circus when he was but a nine year old boy. He couldn't remember the last thing he ever said to his parents, but one thing was certain, it wasn't a decidedly warm _"I love you"_. It was one of those times when saying the words seemed eerily important, beyond a random show of appreciation. But the urge wasn't strong enough to win over his embarrassment, and so, he kept it to himself.

Dick didn't know what had made it so awkward then. His parents said it regularly with the same intensity each time, and he responded in kind. But right then, saying it first felt mortifying, like a terrifying acceptance of vulnerability. He just couldn't do it. The Boy Wonder reasoned that he could always say it after the night's performance. The adrenaline and high of flying through the trapeze would give him the courage to do so, he just needed to wait.

That night the Flying Graysons had fallen and that was that. Cold corpses and gray tombstones were poor audiences for the words.

When Bruce took him in, both as his adoptive father and crime-fighting mentor, Dick had fully devoted himself to doing the best of his ability. He didn't procrastinate, he didn't make excuses. Robin was bigger than his petty wants. The cause was more important than satisfying a hole of loneliness that began at the hands of cut ropes and greedy mobsters. It was the kind of isolation that somber and controlled Bruce Wayne just couldn't fill. Easy affection was something the Batman was hard pressed for and so, crippling solitude was accepted and companionship disregarded.

But then came Wally.

Wally was different, diametrically opposite really. Kid Flash didn't believe in _'later'_. He lived on the principle of _'Right Now'_, thrived on it even. Perhaps it was because he was a speedster—because waiting even a minute felt like forever and _no way am I waiting for Alfred's cookies to cool dude_—his words.

Wally was also very… _open_ in his affections. He was touchy in a way that only Flashes could ever seem to manage and Dick soaked up the affection like a starved sponge. He enjoyed, not that he would ever admit it, the sudden yet tight hugs, and the casual touches and warmth of a hand around his shoulder or in his own hands. Wally had squirmed his pale freckled ass into Robin's list of priorities and Dick couldn't be happier.

It was strange to note however, that the speedster _could_ be patient. Whenever the redhead had to wait for the results of some experiment or conduct tedious observational work, he would wait. While playing video games and getting stuck at some troublesome level, Wally would sit down and enduringly assess the situation. Most surprisingly, when it came to Robin's identity, it seemed like the redhead could wait forever. Wally had given his own freely. In the few shorts days since their acquaintance, he reached out his hand and took off his cowl.

"_I'm Wally West"_ he had said, _"Well… Wallace Rudolph West, but let's stick to Wally, ok Rob?"_

Dick had stared dumbly at the redhead. A second after, he began the arduous debate on whether or not it was his turn to reveal Richard John Grayson-Wayne. The spirit glue had itched then and the domino mask felt tighter than usual, but he couldn't do it. It was against the Batcode of Professional Conduct: Rules and Regulations, Section III: Identities, Subsection B, Do Not Reveal One's Secret Identity—_it is a secret for a reason._

Before he could say as much, the speedster had started talking. Something on his face must have tipped him off.

"_Oh! You don't have to tell me who you are or anything. I just figured it would be easier for you to call me Wally whenever we hang out. Not that we would hang out again—I just figured that we could because-it-seems-like-you-and-I-havea-lotin-commonandyou-seemlikeacooldude-sowecouldtotallybecomebestfriends-butonlyifyouwantandI'mreallysorryI'mramblingbut…do you want to be friends?"_

It had been strange to see Kid Flash run his motor mouth without the cowl on. Who knew he could be so animated? So _alive_? Robin hadn't caught the entire speed-rant but he did have an answer.

"_Sure Wally"_

Robin never thought a smile could be so bright or that he could reciprocate one in kind.

Secret identities had been put on hold and eventually forgotten in the flurry of activity. For the most part, it had worked out. Kid Flash had not been one to pry and treated "Robin" as a legitimate name. Robin, Robbie, Rob, Rob-Bro-Wonder, all had been used often and with such familiarity that "Dick" had become unimportant and slightly surreal. As if that part of his identity was the mask. It wasn't until a shotgun brought it all back with startling clarity.

Kid Flash had gotten shot point blank. Pieces of shrapnel had lodged itself deep into him, some left gaping holes that cried tears of blood. Wally hadn't healed as fast as usual due to his exhaustion and even then, accelerated healing had proved to be a liability, with bits of metal getting stuck and causing further complications. In the chaos, Wally had called out to him. His voice had been feather soft and slightly hoarse.

"_Robin, I'm scared"_

And that was wrong. So very wrong. Heroes didn't admit they were scared. It violated the Batcode of Professional Conduct: Rules and Regulations, Section V: Role Models, Subsection D, Get It Together—_you're a hero, act like it_—but Dick couldn't muster the nerve to tell Wally that, not then, not ever.

"_Help's on the way KF, just hold on"_ he had said as he hurriedly tried to apply multiple tourniquets in record time.

"_I don't wanna die yet Rob…not yet"_ Wally's hand had shaken pitifully as he reached for his best friend who felt miles away.

After he had secured the bandages, Robin had quickly latched onto the redhead. He had carefully positioned Wally to lean onto him so he could apply pressure on the exit wounds. His palms had felt sticky with blood as he vainly tried to reassure them both, _"KF, c'mon, nobody's going to die"_

But Wally hadn't been listening. His eyes had been glazed over, glassy and unfocused as he thrashed around weakly and Robin just held on tighter.

"_I don't wanna go yet Rob, please…I don't want to"_

Dick had fearfully wondered why Wally's voice sounded so broken. And why couldn't the speedster stop moving? Couldn't he have seen that it was making things worse? Dick hadn't known what to do. All of Batman's teachings had clouded over in the reality of his best friend in his arms bleeding to death. In the haze of it all, Robin had briefly lost the filter for his mouth.

"_Wally"_

And that had been wrong, why couldn't he do anything right? He had just violated Batcode, Section II: Secret Identities, Subsection—but it worked and the speedster stilled in his arms.

"_Everything's going to be fine Wally"_

Green eyes had watched him intensely, the fear having trickled away, leaving only rapt attention.

"_Don't worry Walls, we'll get out of here and I'll take you out for some ice cream"_

The speedster had managed a small twitch of his lips at that and leaned further into the acrobat. Dick had laid his cheek against the speedster's temple. Soft reassurances were muttered against heated skin.

"_Batman and Flash are gonna get here any second now Wally"_

"_I'm right here with you Wally"_

"_Don't worry Wallman, we'll get you all patched up…I'll even let you play with one of my batarangs once you're all better"_ Dick had remembered Kid Flash' fascination with the weapons. They were deadly, aerodynamic and not to mention, made by _The Batman_.

"_Promise, Rob?"_ There had been some traces of mirth in there and Dick felt like he could finally breathe again.

"_Yeah, ya big goof, I promise."_

Batman and Flash had arrived exactly two minutes after and Wally had been rushed to the Watchtower Medbay. It had been while sitting in the bleak and cold waiting area that Dick realized Wally had called him anything but his name in his almost-dying moments. The thought had made the world still at the utter wrongness of it all.

Once the redhead woke, Dick had given him his very own Batarang (woohoo! Souvenir!), a name, clear blue eyes and a story of the circus.

As the days turned into weeks, which then trickled into months and eventually years, Dick had come to believe that his priorities were finally in order. He had become more honest with his emotions, quicker to scowl, and quip, and giggle, and laugh, and hug. He had believed he finally learned his lesson, and with it, came the remarkable revelation of his own deep affection for his friend.

Somehow, through the subtle ebb and flow of time, a certain speedster had become much more precious than he ever anticipated. Vivid red hair now spoke of adventure and quick escapes from well executed pranks. Freckled cheeks reminded him of buffet tables and smeared chocolate sundaes and green became an ever-present color in his mind; just the right hue and shade could send his heart running.

But the lessons of grabbing onto the recklessness of now were once again forgone. Friendship was the first obstacle. These feelings, these awfully wild, impassioned, and wonderful feelings could very much ruin the tight bonds of partnership, of bromanship, as it were and Dick couldn't take that chance. When he did began to cultivate the courage to say something, the team was formed and somehow the inclusion of other people into the mix chipped away at the carefully constructed 'Just tell him already, damn it!'.

It felt like the circus all over again. The urge kept pestering him day in, day out.

Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.

Eventually, he did regain the balls to say it but by then, there was Artemis.

Dick liked her. She was cranky and snappy in a way that fueled his trolling habits. Artemis was all about independence and _girl powah!_ which suited him just fine. But then feelings developed and that whole tvtrope of opposites attracting came full throttle their way. It simultaneously felt like a missed opportunity and a blessing.

Dick had been relieved at first. Now he had a reason, an excuse for why he didn't man up and confess his adoration. But of course, he had begun to feel the pangs of jealousy, of _want_ so desperately clawing at his heart. But it was easier this way, or so he had tried to convince himself again and again. The only condolence he had was that he still had a chance, nothing was set in stone after all—which was a terrible thought, but was there nonetheless.

He would never wish for Wally's unhappiness. He never wanted his best friend to feel heartbreak. It was just… he couldn't shake off the feeling that he could do _better_. That he could deliver the fairytale castle and clichéd happy ending the redhead deserved if given the chance. That was just what he needed, a chance. And if it came by, he would seize it, no hesitation.

Or so he told himself.

A few months ago, Wally had come by his apartment. The speedster had seen better days. There had been dark shadows under his eyes and his hair had been a mess—not in the usual windswept _'I'm-a-crazy-scarlet-speedster-what-ya-gonna-do-about-it?_' way. He had looked slightly paler and his clothes were rumpled. A button had been in the wrong hole and he had been wearing mismatched socks.

Dick had hurriedly ushered him in and went to get ice cream from his fridge. Chocolate Cookie Dough, Wally's favorite. Why he had the speedster's preferred ice cream? That question was irrelevant.

"It's not working out" Wally had said over the tub of creamy, milky, processed sugar in his hands.

"Why not?" Dick had asked, scooping out a portion with his own spoon. He had watched his best friend mull over the question. The redhead's eyebrows had been scrunched in concentration, a slight frown on his lips. Dick had leaned into his best friend, supporting him with the simple touch.

"I don't know Dick, I guess… she and I are just… out of sync" Wally had sighed and leaned further into the acrobat's heat. "Artemis—she wants…she wants adventure, she wants to stay up late at night chasing baddies down grime covered alleyways and making them pee their pants with trick arrows and that really sharp glare she's got down to an art form. And I just want to go home at the end of the day with a cup of hot cocoa and a late night show, maybe munch on some snacks too… just to feel grounded, you know?"

'_I do, I know.'_ but Dick hadn't said that, instead, "Is it my fault?"

And they had both stilled at the question, Wally had unconsciously moved away and Dick missed the warmth of him.

"If I hadn't asked her to go undercover, would she have…?"

Dick had watched as Wally laid down the tub of ice cream on his coffee table. Droplets of condensation trickled down and settled on the glass. At the back of his mind, he had heard Alfred muttering about coasters. He was scared of the answer. That decision had almost cost him his best friend. He worried it still could. The blue-eyed teen quickly set his face into an indifferent expression and focused on the small puddle forming on his coffee table. Images of two giggling boys running through the junkyard in the rain flitted through his mind.

"I… I don't know. No offense man, I sorta wish it was your fault, then I'd at least have somebody to blame" Wally had given him a rueful smile and he reflected it. Subtly, the speedster had moved back beside him, and his voice was soft, "But it's not. It's really not, it's just…I think Artemis wants to settle down too, but not right now. Maybe, we just weren't right for each other"

Dick's breath had caught in his throat at the emerald eyes that were solely on him. The expression in them had been unreadable but there was something there. It had been the golden opportunity, _the_ moment to swoop in like some damn knight in shining armor, but he didn't. He chalked it up to being a decent human being.

'_It's too soon'_, he had thought, _'far too soon, give it a few weeks'_.

"Damn, sorry Walls, you wanna stay here and drown your sorrows in video games, and junk food?" At the question, the heat in the speedster's eyes had dimmed. Dick had momentarily questioned whether or not he had made the right decision but asserted that he had. Wally smiled at him then, not as bright as usual, but it was a start.

"Sure Dick, I'd—I'd really like that, thanks man"

Now, whenever Dick thinks about it, he wishes that he had asked Wally to stay forever.

The weeks had passed on and instead of pouncing right on the speedster, Dick had let it slide. He had time and besides, he wanted to prepare for this. Wanted to make sure everything was a hundred percent ready for the epic story that would be Wally and Dick, speedster and acrobat extraordinaire. But the ending wasn't quite like he planned. There had been no grand confessions of the heart or bold gestures of love, instead, one of the main characters had faded away part way through.

The MFD had made quick work out of his best friend. Blue chrysalis energy had zapped into Kid Flash, searching him out like a lightning rod. Wally had just disappeared, along with words unsaid and a lifetime of memories that would never be made.

And once again Dick didn't get to say the words.

He was furious and frustrated at the world and himself. How hard would it have been?

"_I love you Wally"_

That was it, four words, five syllables and he ran away, thought it unimportant. Now he was left with _'what-ifs'_ and pathetic imaginings of what could have been. Now he would never know what it would be like to hold the living furnace in his arms, to brush away stray unruly locks of hair and to kiss freckled cheeks and chapped lips. He'd never know what it would feel like to break the bed with soft whispers and hushed names echoed between them. He'd never wake up to the sight of green eyes with all the best parts of the world condensed in their irises.

And the promises of later are empty and left with the finality of never.

It hurts. It hurts far more than any bullet or knife, more so because all he had to do was a take a leap and grab onto something he knew was worth the risk of falling. But now, no matter how many times he throws a tantrum, or yells bitterly at an unforgiving world, no matter how many times he pleads, the bottom line is, Wally's gone.

Dick feels his throat closing up. He feels the sting of hot tears and the uncontrollable shaking of his hands. His body feels both numb and so very raw and Dick just wants to cry, but he doesn't. The thing is, even when his whole world feels like it's collapsing into itself, like a singularity of all the things that should have been, the rest of the world moves on. It's agonizingly unfair but that's the way it is and there's work to be done. There are criminals to apprehend and innocents to save, a trail to follow and an operation to break down. Once he settles everything, then he can have time for himself, maybe later he tells himself.

"_Later_"


End file.
